


Flight of the Butterfly

by genkisakka



Category: Saiyuki Ibun
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genkisakka/pseuds/genkisakka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jouan tries to catch Houmei breaking the rules, and ends up breaking several of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight of the Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7veilsphaedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/gifts).



> Written for the [valentine_smut](http://valentine_smut.dreamwidth.org) fic exchange as a gift for 7veilsphaedra, who requested Saiyuki Ibun-verse fic and the prompt “strange.”

The Sanzo candidates were preparing for dinner when Ganpuku hurtled into the room, red-faced and drenched with sweat. “Hey, you guys will never guess what I just saw in town!” he gasped.

“What, what?” the others chorused, gathering around Ganpuku in wide-eyed anticipation. Jouan kept his eyes on the mirror and continued placidly combing his hair. Really, the others should follow his example and maintain the cool attitude befitting a potential holder of one of the most powerful sutras in the world, rather than gossiping like bunch of mahjong-playing grandmothers.

“Houmei-han has a _girlfriend_!”

Jouan dropped his comb with a clatter that was thankfully lost in the chorus of shocked, skeptical exclamations following Ganpuku’s breathless announcement.

“No way! I don’t believe it!”

“That scrawny, demerit-collecting, airhead of a monk?”

“The one who talks like a schoolgirl and gives everyone cutesy nicknames?”

In the mirror, Jouan could see Ganpuku nodding so hard his round cheeks quivered. “It’s true!” he insisted. “I saw them together with my own eyes!”

Jouan bent down and tried to pick up his comb, but his fingers couldn’t seem to grasp hold of it. That strange, absurd excuse for a man, much less a monk… had a secret lover? A _female_ lover? The idea was preposterous!

“What exactly did you see, Maru?” Jou’un asked.

“I was headed down this side street, on my way to buy some odango at that one stall… you know, the good one by the tofu shop across from the liquor store…”

“Get to the point, Maru!” several monks groused.

“Sorry… well, I turn the corner, and there’s Houmei-han, standing across from this dark-haired lady wearing a long black dress. I didn’t get a good look at her face, but her figure was nice, not too curvy but not super-skinny either. She had something in her hands – looked like a shirt or sweater or something – and she handed it to him with this little bow. He took it and bowed, too, so I thought maybe it was like a business transaction… you know, maybe she was a seamstress or laundress or something. So I start to call out to Houmei, to ask him to walk back to the temple together, you know? But then… the lady throws herself into Houmei’s arms!”

“Whaaaaaat?” the monks chorused.

“And she buries her face in his chest – I think she was crying – hugging him and saying something I couldn’t make out… and then… Houmei hugs her back!”

“Seriously?”

“Really! They’re just standing there hugging each other, and Houmei lifts her chin and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of the sweater or shirt or whatever. And he smiles at her…”

“Oh for Buddha’s sake,” Doutaku exclaimed, “did he kiss her or what?”

“Yes!” Ganpuku shouted. “Yes, he did! I saw it!”

The monks erupted in a cacophony of hoots and protests and lewd remarks. Jouan threw the comb to the tatami so hard a few of its teeth penetrated the mat. He jumped up and cried –

“I’ve never heard such a ridiculous story! Maru, either you’re joking, or you ate some bad odango and hallucinated the whole thing.”

Ganpuku looked a little chagrined. “I swear, Ochou-han, I told you exactly what happened!” he said earnestly.

“Then maybe you misunderstood what you saw,” Jouan said, a bit more gently.

“Yeah, Houmei doesn’t strike me as a ladies’ man,” Doutaku snickered.

“Right?” agreed Gichou. “I mean, carrying on with a woman behind everyone’s backs… do you really think Houmei could pull off something that complicated?”

“Or that takes that much work?” Doutaku sneered.

While the rest of the candidates shared a good laugh, Jouan gave Ganpuku’s shoulder a squeeze. He meant to ask his friend exactly what kind of kiss Houmei had given the mystery lady, but at that moment, the dinner bell rang, and Toudai stuck his massive head into the room.

“Come on, you laggards,” he growled. “If you’re late, I’ll eat your share of rice.”

“Not fair, Toudai-han!” Ganpuku cried, trampling over several monks in his rush for the door. Jouan retrieved his comb and set it neatly atop his bedroll before following his idiotic rivals at his usual elegant pace.

Jouan spent most of dinner sneaking glances at Houmei, who was at his usual seat beside Toudai. As he did almost every night, Houmei spent most of the meal wheedling bits of tofu out of Toudai’s soup bowl, which that creepy youkai kid then replaced with his own share. When Toudai protested, the brat replied he didn’t get nearly as hungry as the rest of them due to his small stature. Houmei then turned to the youkai, his hazel eyes wide and pleading, and received an extra scoop of rice for his trouble.

Jouan took another small bite of rice and chewed it slowly. How could such a goofy, mooching loser be capable of attracting anyone, male or female? Clearly Toudai was besotted with the demerit-monk, from the way he colored slightly whenever Houmei hugged him or called him “Momo-chan” in that light, childish voice. And the youkai-kid constantly stared at the blond and called him “Hou-san” and slipped him extra food and looked out for him when his mind started to wander during lessons. Though that could be because the kid felt he owed Houmei his life after the avalanche test.

The memory of that day made Jouan shudder slightly. Yes, Houmei did have tremendous spiritual power, which commanded respect and even a bit of awe from the other candidates, even as they mocked him behind his back. It seemed completely at odds with Houmei’s physical self, though no less strange and far more compelling.

He jumped at the feel of someone poking him in the ribs. “Hey, Ochou-han,” Ganpuku whispered. “You might want to stop staring at Houmei-han before he notices and comes begging for your food, too.”

“I am not staring,” Jouan whispered back, his denial a bit more heated than he would’ve liked. “I’m just trying to see if his lady-friend left any evidence of their earlier encounter.” He eyed Ganpuku, who had flushed at this last remark, confirming Jouan’s earlier suspicions that the monk had sacrificed a bit of truth for better dramatic impact.

“Maru,” he murmured. “Exactly what kind of kiss did you see between Houmei and the lady?”

“Uh… well…” Ganpuku stammered. “It was kind of… I mean… oh hell, Houmei-han just kissed her on the forehead, okay?”

To Jouan’s mortification, he burst out laughing. Silence fell over the table like a heavy blanket, and ten pairs of eyes fixed on him with varying degrees of surprise and amusement.

Houmei clapped his hands and flashed a brilliant smile at Jouan. “Oh, I do love a good joke!” he said. “Won’t you share it with us, Cho-Cho?”

Jouan’s mouth dropped open at the absurd nickname, which sent the other monks into gales of laughter. “Wait… that’s not my… don’t call me…” he stammered, his face so hot he feared it might spontaneously combust.

“Ooh, what’s the matter, Cho-Cho?” Doutaku guffawed. “Are you running a fever?”

Ganpuku tried to stifle his own giggles. “Do you need a glass of ice water, Ochou-han?” he asked with a grin.

Jouan rose gracefully from his seat and replied with as much dignity as he could muster –

“No thank you, Maru. I think I might lie down for a bit. Perhaps you would explain your joke to Houmei-san?”

He stalked out of the room of cackling candidates without a backward glance, seething and swearing revenge.

***

The moon was just starting to wane when Jouan woke at the sound of a door scraping shut. He peered into the darkness until his eyes adjusted, and saw two… no, three empty bedrolls.

 _Ah-hah_ , he thought triumphantly. Here was his chance to get back at Houmei for humiliating him at dinner – he wouldn’t be sneaking around if he wasn’t breaking one rule or another. And if Jouan’s sleuthing took down Toudai and that youkai brat as well, so much the better – two fewer candidates for the precious sutras. Surely the examiners could make an exception and award the youkai-borne scroll to a human if necessary.

He slipped out of the bedroom and stood still for a moment, closing his eyes and reaching out with his other senses, until he could just about hear the buzz of whispering voices somewhere deep in the temple. They were probably in one of the lesson rooms farthest away from the examiners’ quarters. He slipped swiftly down the darkened halls, taking care to step as lightly as the butterfly for which he was named. It wouldn’t do for him to be the one caught while attempting to be the catcher.

He saw a thin stream of light appear from under one of the classroom doors, and smiled in anticipation. What could they be up to? Perhaps they’d snuck Houmei’s lady in after everyone was asleep… though Jouan doubted that the woman was really Houmei’s, given Ganpuku’s exaggeration of their encounter. For all Jouan knew, he had been right and the woman was a figment of Ganpuku’s overstuffed imagination.

He heard the bass rumble of Toudai’s voice, and the reedy sigh of Houmei’s reply… and suddenly Jouan was blushing every bit as violently as he had at dinner. Could it be that he was interrupting something even seamier than Houmei with a woman? Could Toudai be taking his pleasure with the smaller monk? And… dear gods, goddesses and Buddha above… could the youkai-kid be participating as well?

He was so distracted by that appalling notion that he nearly ran into the door. He froze, terrified that he’d alerted the trio to his presence, ears strained to catch the slightest sound from the other room.

“Oh yes, Toudai… just like that,” Houmei murmured.

Jouan had to choke back his gasp at the mental image of Houmei arching his slender back against Toudai’s massive chest, his fine-boned features contorted in ecstasy. His knees felt as if they’d turned to jelly, and he slowly sat down to recover his composure.

“You sure?” Toudai replied, sounding a bit skeptical. “Seems a little rough to me. I don’t have your finesse, after all.”

“It’s splendid,” Houmei assured him. “Just what I needed. Genkai, are you sure you’re not tired?”

“I’m fine, Hou-san,” the youkai replied. “I like helping with this.”

“Surely your arms must be a bit sore by now. Toudai, perhaps you should take over for him.”

“You need him doing what he’s doing now,” Genkai insisted. “Otherwise, you’ll never finish before dawn.”

Jouan was glad no one could see him now, crimson-faced and gaping like a koi at the notion that Houmei had enough stamina to last the night. Though, he supposed it shouldn’t come as such a shock, given the enormous energy contained within that slight frame.

“Oh, very well,” Houmei sighed. “You are both far too kind to me.”

“Don’t we know it,” Toudai retorted. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

“By all means, do continue, my dear Momo-chan,” Houmei whispered.

Jouan tugged absently at the too-tight front of his sleep-pants, wondering if he’d maybe eaten a little too much rice at dinner… and choked back another gasp as his fingertips encountered the real source of his constriction.

For Buddha’s sake, he was _hard_.

He jumped up and raced for the bathhouse, heedless of whether anyone could hear his flight. Four or five bucketfuls of brutally cold water washed away the physical evidence of his humiliation, but his mind seethed with the knowledge that Houmei had once again (if unwittingly) made a mockery of him.

Jouan absolutely would not let this stand.

***

The next day started off badly for Jouan. The candidates were forced to spend the next morning training with that fat-lipped elephant-asshole, who took great glee in forcing Jouan to swim back and forth across the frigid river thirty times for daring to nod off during his pompous speech about sacrifice, endurance, and the path to enlightenment or whatever. Jouan had barely slept two hours thanks to that degenerate Houmei and his after-hours antics, so he was looking forward to afternoon meditation, when it would be easy to sneak in an hour-long nap.

But Jouan forgot his fatigue when he caught sight of Houmei slipping away from the temple with a dark bundle under his arm, followed by Toudai with the little youkai-brat on his shoulders. Skipping out on afternoon meditation wasn’t a dismissible offense, but Jouan was willing to bet that sneaking away from training for a quick threesome behind a rock or tree somewhere was something the examiners would frown upon. He looked around frantically for a cloak or blanket or something to ward off the biting mountain wind, but the two men were moving quickly, and Jouan didn’t want to risk losing his chance for payback.

So he shivered his way down the mountain after Houmei and Toudai, taking care to shield his aura and stay out of sight. He tried reciting a mantra for warmth that Ganpuku had taught him just before he dove into the river for his punishment, but it was hard to enunciate properly given how hard his teeth were chattering.

He expected the two to veer off into one of the many caves they passed during their descent, but Houmei surprised Jouan yet again by heading straight for the village. Jouan slowed a bit, mingling with the crowds while remaining close enough to hear Toudai speak.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he was asking Houmei. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, and you spent a lot of your energy preparing.”

“A man must do some things on his own,” Houmei replied gravely.

Genkai jumped down from his perch and grabbed the hem of Houmei’s cloak. “Hou-san, at least let us wait outside just in case you need help,” he pleaded.

Houmei gently pried the material from Genkai’s hands, taking care not to touch the youkai directly. “You’ve done enough already,” he said gently. “I have no right to ask any more. I accepted this burden, and it is mine alone to bear.”

Toudai glanced in Jouan’s direction, and the monk quickly lowered his head as if examining one of the pieces of fruit at the stall next to him. His mind was still reeling from hearing Houmei speak as if he were a genuine monk, not some idiotic pretender.

“Be careful,” Toudai said gruffly. “And don’t get caught; those old farts in charge would love to dismiss you from the trials for doing this without their sanction.”

Jouan glanced over in time to see Toudai rest one large hand on Houmei’s head. Houmei beamed up at Toudai, and moved his head so that Toudai’s hand ruffled his straw-colored hair. “Thank you both,” he said, glancing down at Genkai. “And don’t worry – I’ll be back for supper!”

He turned a corner and disappeared. Toudai plucked Genkai off the ground and settled him back on his broad shoulders.

“We’re really going back to the temple?” Genkai asked Toudai.

“Of course not,” the tall monk snorted. “I just want to give the fool a head start.” The ensuing silence stretched on for so long that Jouan finally looked over again to see whether they were still there… and found himself staring straight into Toudai’s sharp, dark eyes. He let out a rather undignified shriek.

“You gonna tag along or what, butterfly-boy?” Toudai growled.

Jouan smoothed a wrinkle from the front of his acolyte robe. “I suppose I am,” he said stiffly.

***

Twenty minutes later, the three stood in front of a small cottage encircled by precisely trimmed rose bushes. Jouan marveled that such beautiful roses could bloom just a few kilometers away from the icy mountain they’d just descended. He touched one, and felt it hum with supernatural energy he quickly identified as being youkai-based.

“Toudai!” he cried. “There are youkai here!”

“Shhhh!” Toudai hissed. “The woman who asked Houmei here is youkai.”

“What? And still you let Houmei come here alone?” Jouan asked in an outraged whisper.

Just then, there was a female scream, followed by a series of unearthly howls. Jouan dove for the front door, but Toudai grabbed him as he was turning the knob.

“Don’t open it!” he snarled.

“But Houmei’s in danger!” Jouan shouted.

“He’s exorcising a hungry ghost,” Toudai said. “It’s a complex working. If we were to interrupt now…”

“…Hou-san’s soul could be sucked into the spirit-world along with the ghost,” Genkai finished. “Toudai-san, bring me to the window so I can see what’s happening.”

Toudai stood just beside the front window, and Genkai carefully leaned over to peer inside. “Good… the ghost is caught in the spirit trap we made,” he reported. “The youkai-lady is crying… pleading with him. I can’t hear what she’s saying.”

Another series of horrifying groans and snarls emerged from the cottage. “The ghost’s trying to break free,” Genkai said with a worried frown. “He still has no face… this is bad. He’s not hearing his wife….”

Then a strong, clear voice cut through the noise like a temple bell –

“Rou-san… heed your wife’s tears and answer her plea. Return to yourself, so that you may be freed!”

The cottage became the center of a rapidly expanding bubble of spiritual energy so intense it brought both Jouan and Toudai to their knees. Jouan’s ears were filled with a primal, musical roaring not unlike that of a waterfall pounding and tumbling over rocks.

“Return to yourself!” Houmei repeated in that same strange, sonorous tone, and Jouan felt an unbearable surge of longing and despair, followed by a rush of loving compassion that brought tears to his eyes.

Genkai had managed to hoist himself onto the window-frame. “It’s working!” he cried. “The ghost… it’s now the image of a man! He’s weeping and smiling… his wife’s hugging him… he’s fading away…”

The energy that had engulfed them all abruptly vanished, and Toudai scrambled to his feet. “Houmei,” he whispered, his face pale.

Jouan burst through the front door first, and saw Houmei crumpled on the floor. The youkai woman was bent over him, shaking his shoulder.

“Houmei-sama… please wake up,” she sobbed. Jouan pushed her aside and pressed his fingers along Houmei’s neck.

“Is he…?” the woman hiccupped.

Jouan’s shoulders sagged with relief. “His pulse is strong,” he said.

“He probably just overextended himself,” Toudai added, helping the woman to her feet. “Did the exorcism work?”

“Yes,” the woman whispered, and Jouan watched her aura brighten to a luminous yellow-green. “Oh, yes. Rou is finally at peace.” She mopped at her eyes with the sleeve of her black tunic. “I apologize for my emotional state,” she said sheepishly, her gaze wandering back to Houmei. “Please, let me care for Houmei-sama until he recovers his strength. I owe him everything.”

“Thank you for your kindness, but we should bring him back to the temple,” Toudai said.

Houmei’s eyelids flickered, and he made a small noise of discomfort. “Is he gone?” he asked, opening glazed eyes and clutching at Jouan’s hand. “Did it work?”

“Yes, you unbelievably reckless idiot,” Jouan snapped, threading his fingers through Houmei’s. “Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

Houmei’s eyes were luminous in the room’s dim light. “Not if I don’t get caught,” he said, looking up at Toudai. “You’ll carry me back, won’t you Momo-chan?”

Toudai rolled his eyes. “I think even you will be hard-pressed to come up with an excuse as to how afternoon meditation left you limp as a wrung dishrag,” he said, gathering the smaller man in his arms with a tenderness that left Jouan strangely aggravated. He started to drop Houmei’s hand, but Houmei tightened his grip.

“Don’t go, Cho-Cho,” he murmured weakly.

“You and your stupid nicknames,” Jouan groused. But he held fast to Houmei’s hand all the way back to the temple.

***

Once the temple’s head priests and the Sanzo examiners interviewed everyone involved in the exorcism, including the grateful widow of the dead husband whose shade had been wreaking havoc throughout the village, they absolved Houmei of any wrongdoing and sent him to the infirmary to recover his strength. The rest of the candidates spent most of dinner discussing the day’s events and teasing Ganpuku about his thorough misunderstanding of the previous day’s meeting.

“Clearly, Houmei used the sweater the youkai woman gave him to make a spirit trap last night,” Ryuzen said, pushing his glasses up onto his nose with a prim expression. “Probably belonged to her husband… isn’t that so, Toudai?”

Toudai nodded. “Genkai and I were up all night helping him weave that damn thing,” he said between mouthfuls of rice and pickled vegetables.

“I only held the wool,” Genkai said modestly. “Tou-san and Hou-san did the hard work.”

Toudai shuddered. “Genkai, could you not call me ‘father’? I’m really not that old.”

The other monks laughed. “Hey, Tou-san… it suits you!” Doutaku teased.

“Sorry, Toudai.” Genkai said with a grin. Toudai smirked and tugged on Genkai’s braid.

“Little shit,” he said. “You done eating? Wanna go see how Houmei’s doing?”

Genkai shook his head. “Let Hou-san sleep,” he said. “We can visit him tomorrow.”

Jouan’s chopsticks stopped midway to his mouth. Was it his imagination, or had the kid _winked_ at him?

***

Houmei turned his head toward the sound of the sliding door. “Ah, Cho-Cho,” he said, waving and smiling like a simpleton. “Have you brought me any leftovers? The doctor only gave me one tiny bowl of rice porridge.”

Jouan shook his head. If he lived a million years, he would never figure out how Houmei could play the dimwit so convincingly. “I’m not your servant-boy,” he sniffed, dropping to a cross-legged position next to where Houmei lay on the infirmary pallet.

“So harsh, Cho-Cho,” Houmei pouted. “Aren’t butterflies supposed to be gentle?”

Jouan felt his cheeks flame and cursed under his breath. “I’m no butterfly,” he scowled.

“Oh?” Houmei stretched out his arm and brushed Jouan’s cheek with his fingertips. “But you have such a fragile, refined beauty… and you flutter about the temple so gracefully. If a butterfly was made of flesh and bone, it would be you.”

Jouan met Houmei’s smile with narrowed eyes. “Do you enjoy humiliating me?” he growled.

Houmei blinked. “Did I humiliate you?” he replied. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“Oh really?” Jouan locked eyes with Houmei. “Maybe not now… but what was that business about last night? You knew I was outside the door, didn’t you?”

Houmei’s smile turned wicked. “I decided if you were that intent on eavesdropping, I would give you something worth listening to,” he said.

Jouan stared at Houmei’s smug face, and his ire morphed into helpless laughter. “Damn you,” he choked. “I could barely sleep after that performance, did you know that?”

Houmei began to laugh as well, a bubbly, bright sound that warmed Jouan from the inside out. “Is that what inspired you to stalk me today?” Houmei asked.

“I was not stalking you!” Jouan protested, his blush deepening. “I just… wanted to know what you were up to, with all the secrecy and sneaking about.”

Houmei crossed his arms. “Wrong!” he intoned. “You were hoping for a visual display of what you heard last night, weren’t you, Cho-Cho?”

Jouan sputtered in incoherent protest, and Houmei laughed loud and long, his head thrown back against the pillow. Jouan could see the faint imprint of his own fingers on Houmei’s pale, tender flesh, where a few short hours ago Jouan had frantically searched for a sign that Houmei yet lived. He had no idea he had pushed so hard, or that Houmei bruised so easily.

For the first time in years, Jouan’s body acted before his mind could catch up. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the marks on Houmei’s neck, murmuring an apology against the petal-soft skin.

“Beautiful butterfly,” Houmei sighed, arching his neck. “Alight where you will.”

Jouan stripped off his tunic and slid onto the pallet next to Houmei, who opened the covers in invitation. “You are so strange,” Jouan said before kissing him deeply.

Making love with Houmei was like diving into a fast-flowing river of steaming bathwater, Jouan thought hazily. They traded kiss after kiss, twining tongues and limbs and hands until Jouan’s inner fire was fully stoked and threatening to consume him. Houmei was fascinated by the rose tattoo on Jouan’s collarbone and explored it in excruciating detail, first with fingertips, then lips, tongue and teeth. Jouan heard himself moaning Houmei’s name in a ragged, unrestrained mantra that he would probably find mortifying upon later reflection.

“A rose for a butterfly,” Houmei crooned, capturing Jouan’s lips in another lengthy kiss. “How appropriate.”

Jouan slid Houmei’s robe off his shoulders and down his arms. “It was a dare,” he explained, caressing Houmei’s bare back. “The night I decided to seek the position of Sanzo… the other monks told me I needed to become more accustomed to pain if I were to succeed.”

“What an odd notion,” Houmei mused, licking and nipping his way down Jouan’s chest and over his nipples. Jouan groaned and tightened his arms around Houmei as he teased the tiny peaks with the tip of his tongue and an occasional scrape of teeth. “No one should ever become inured to pain.”

Jouan’s hands wandered over Houmei’s rear end, which was surprisingly round and enticingly muscled. “I think I’ve wanted you since that day in the snow,” he admitted.

Houmei’s face remained pressed against Jouan’s taut stomach, but his shoulders shook with mirth. “Despite my lack of artistry?” he teased, dipping his tongue into Jouan’s navel, then trailing it lower until it met the cloth drawstring of Jouan’s sleep-pants.

Jouan writhed and cried out as Houmei used his teeth to tug on the fine hairs just above Jouan’s waistband. “I take it back,” he panted, pulling his pants off with a clumsy, impatient tug. “Your true artistry has now revealed itself to me.”

Houmei laughed in delight. “As has your true nature to me,” he said. He threw the blankets aside and rolled onto his back, spreading his arms wide. “I am your garden, sweet butterfly.”

Jouan took a moment to admire the way the lamplight danced over Houmei’s naked form. He leaned down and mapped the terrain slowly, lingering over each millimeter of pearlescent skin, ignoring his body’s clamor for swift gratification. He ended his journey at the garden’s root, taking Houmei’s erection into his mouth and sucking him with long, slow strokes of his tongue, until Houmei was thrashing beneath him and moaning his name – his _true_ name – again and again.

“Jouan… I’m going to…” Houmei gasped, clenching his fist in Jouan’s hair before coming soundlessly, bucking his hips so hard Jouan nearly choked. He swallowed as best he could and released Houmei’s spent member, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Houmei grabbed that same hand and took the first two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over them until they were coated with saliva. Jouan pulled them out and shook his head.

“There must be some sort of oil or salve here somewhere,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Houmei’s hazel eyes glittered in a dangerous way that made Jouan’s own erection twitch. “Maybe I want to be hurt,” he said. “To become more accustomed to pain…” He flipped onto his hands and knees and glanced over his shoulder. His topknot had come undone, obscuring half his face behind a chin-length, cornsilk curtain.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Houmei said. “Come inside me, lovely butterfly.”

Jouan’s breath caught at Houmei’s wanton display. “You never fail… to surprise me… Houmei,” he grunted as he worked each of his spit-slicked digits carefully into Houmei’s cleft, stretching and breathing in an attempt to make entry easier for both of them. Houmei pressed into his intruding hand with low, needy sounds, and Jouan found himself beyond all hope of control. He spat liberally onto his free hand and coated his erection as best he could before entering Houmei with one swift, brutal stroke. Houmei thrust back against him, his torso moving in the same graceful arc Jouan had pictured the previous night. He bent over and pressed his chest against Houmei’s back, closing his eyes and reveling in the fulfillment of a wish he hadn’t been aware of making.

“Jouan… please…” Houmei begged, and Jouan saw that Houmei was hard once more. He straightened and buried himself in Houmei, starting with the same slow, deep rhythm he’d used with his mouth earlier, then picking up speed and force as he hurtled toward his own climax. He felt the warm stickiness of Houmei’s release coat his stroking fingers just before his own tumble into bone-dissolving bliss.

“Houmei… so lovely,” he breathed, trailing kisses along the knobs of Houmei’s spine as they lowered themselves to the pallet. Houmei turned over and kissed Jouan, then licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Is that how I taste?” he asked. “I’m a little bitter, don’t you think?”

Jouan laughed. “Maybe you should eat more sugar,” he teased. Houmei snuggled against him with a contented sigh.

“Or nectar… like a butterfly…” Houmei murmured sleepily. “Like you.”

Jouan brushed his lips over Houmei’s forehead. Now that he had recovered his senses, a host of doubts and recriminations stampeded through his brain. As if he’d heard Jouan’s unvoiced thoughts, Houmei raised his head and gazed at Jouan solemnly.

“Butterflies have no regrets,” he said. “They follow their own path, as aimless as it may seem.”

Jouan buried his face in Houmei’s hair. “As do you, Houmei,” he said softly.

“If that’s true, then surely our wandering paths will cross again,” Houmei said with a yawn. As his breath gained the even cadence of sleep, Jouan whispered –

“Buddha grant that they may cross again soon.”


End file.
